Coffeehouse Drabbles
by rajikka
Summary: A collection of Romerica moments ranging from funny to fluffy (usually both, knowing these guys.) Because this pairing needs more love! And coffee! And romantic-comedy situations!
1. Tribute

**Coffeehouse Drabbles**

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia in this universe, but in the Multiverse…nevermind.

Warnings: Drabbles (so very, very short! ….Most of the time), Shounen Ai/male x male pairings, bad language courtesy of Lovi, and some OOCness (I'll do my best to avoid that though).

This was inspired by a prank I've wanted to do since reading Hunger Games. I haven't been able to yet, but envisioned America pulling it without a second thought. I immediately wrote it down on a napkin and giggled like a maniac for several minutes (don't worry, I only scared off a few potential customers) and you get….this.

The following chapters will most likely jump around timelines from when the pair were colonies to modern day selves, in no particular order. Don't expect them to connect either, as these are just random ideas or situations I came up with and put Romerica in. In the event a chapter connects with another, I'll label it clearly in the chapters box and in each chapter themselves.

Enjoy~

* * *

The bell above the old fashioned glass door jingled as the two coffee patrons entered. The taller of the two waved to a familiar couple at a nearby table while the shorter brunette glanced around the small shop. It was his first time in Café Dolce, as he had finally allowed himself to be dragged there by his caffeine addicted boyfriend.

The décor was very vintage, with a dark hardwood floor, various rustic trinkets lining the shelves, and dim lighting coming from the small lights overhanging each table and the main counter. The windows were large and spotless, displaying the coffee shop's logo that hadn't looked like it had been changed in a few decades at least. Two large chalkboards were displayed on the walls, listing the main menu and special drinks of the day. Café Dolce itself wasn't very large, but was slowly filling up with people to get their coffee fix.

Romano frowned slightly. Normally, a excess of people in a small area (especially _Americans_) was enough to drive him insane, but he allowed the pleasant smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting though the air distract him and soothe his nerves.

Not that it was going to last long.

"Do you know what you want, Lovi?" asked the blonde beside him, bubbly as ever.

"Once we get a little closer and I can see the damned board, then sure." Growled the Italian, poking his head around a particularly bulgy businessman in front of him. His attempts to see the chalkboard were thwarted by the man who could have been the face of adult obesity in a poster campaign, as well as his own short stature.

"Do you want me to lift you up so you can see it better?" Alfred asked, concerned. He knew how good the coffee was here and didn't want his adorable Italian to miss out.

"W-What? No!" sputtered the Southern half of Italy, his cheeks tinged with pink. "I'll wait 'til we're closer, bastard."

"Aw, are you embarrassed, Lovi?" teased the American. He couldn't help but poke his boyfriend's rosy cheeks. He was too adorable!

"Any idiot would be embarrassed if you offered to pick them up like a child in a crowded coffee shop, dammit!" He swatted at Alfred's hand. "And stop calling me 'Lovi!' It's a dumb nickname!" he added as an afterthought.

"Well I think it's a cute nickname," beamed the blonde, chest puffed out in pride. "After all, I came up with it myself!"

"You and half the other idiotas I know…" grumbled the Italian, thinking of his clueless brother and former caretaker.

"Do you want a different nickname then?" Alfred asked, his sky blue eyes gleaming.

"S-Sure…" Lovino mumbled, a little worried about what other bizarre names Alfred might come up with. He ignored the warm feeling spreading in his chest. It definitely had nothing to do with the incredibly handsome man standing so close next to him, watching him with those gorgeous blue eyes.

"Ok, but you have to come up with a good nickname for me too!" the North American Nation grinned, placing an arm around Lovi and a finger to his lips. "And it has to be a secret until we get our coffee."

"W-Why?" Romano blushed a little more, attributing it to the heat of the small building filling up with people.

"It's more fun that way!"

"Whatever you say, bastard…"

While the line in front of them slowly shortened, the two Nations were deep in thought (i.e. one was frowning/pouting and the other was grinning like an idiot) over coming up with suitable nicknames. As they passed a chalkboard, Lovino was finally able to see what drinks were available, but barely glanced at it. He was focused on figuring out the perfect nickname, dammit!

Alfred watched Lovino as his brows furrowed together and a slight pout was forming on his lips. He loved watching his adorable, yet strikingly handsome boyfriend's mind work. Lovino was so expressive! Alfred knew he couldn't read the atmosphere in a room to save his life, but he felt very accomplished at reading Romano's various moods though his blunt speech and cute facial expressions. Alfred couldn't help but chuckle as the Italian's lower lip protruded a slightly more, adding even more of a pout to his frown. It was all he could do not to glomp the man beside him.

"What are you laughing about, hamburger bastard?" Olive green eyes snapped towards the Nation standing next to him and giggling like a fool.

"I-I can't help it! You looked so, so serious and cute at the same time, Lovi!" Alfred rested his head on the brunette's shoulder.

"I'm not cute, dammit!" he snarled back, flustered again. "And stop calling me 'Lovi' bastardo! That's why we're coming up with these new damned nicknames, isn't it?"

"Aww~ Is that why you're so red?" grinned the blonde. "You must be putting way more thought into this than me!"

"N-Not really, jackass…but, do you…do you already have one?"

"Yep! Thought of it a few minutes ago!" the American flashed his million dollar smile. "It's really good too. Did you think of one yet?"

"O-Of course I did, bastard!" Romano huffed back. "I thought of it way before you did, obviously. I was just thinking about…some documents I have to finish when we go home. Work stuff."

"Oh, that's a relief, because you'll have to tell the barista my new nickname when we get to the front."

"W-What?! Why?!"

"So she'll write it on the cup and call it out when my drink's finished!"

"Y-You want her to say it _out loud?_" Romano asked in total disbelief. If his face wasn't red before, it was flaming now.

"Is my new nickname not rated E for Everyone?" America winked with a slightly suggestive smile.

"Go to hell," was all Romano replied.

On the outside, Lovino carefully focused on keeping a stoic face (and willing his damned blush away), but on the inside he was a frantic mess of nerves. He had no idea what to call America. Nicknames weren't his thing! Cooking, picking out the best-looking suits, winning people over with a charming smile…those were his things! Definitely not deciding if 'Smoochykins' or 'Kissy Bear' were appropriate nicknames for his gun-toting, car-lifting, hamburger-inhaler of a boyfriend. The Italian grinned.

'_Maybe I could use one of those ridiculous names to embarrass him for a change…then he'd never call me 'Lovi' again_…'

The brunette chuckled evilly, mildly alarming his now-concerned boyfriend, until the large man in front of them moved forward to give his order. Then the panic set in again.

'_Dammit! There's no way I'd be able to tell the barista to write down something so weird!_' his eye twitched a little. '_Frog bastard-creepy maybe, but that's practically _Russia_-creepy!_'

Lovino tried to resist the urge to bash his head into the brick wall repeatedly. He briefly debated texting Feliciano, but figured his twin brother would probably give him something really sappy or really stupid. 'Amore' or 'Tesoro' or the like. Bleh.

As the businessman in front finished his order, America glanced over at Romano, who looked like he was about to have an anxiety attack.

"Want me to go first?"

Romono nodded quickly.

"What do you want to drink?"

The brunette was so preoccupied with his mini heart attack, he honestly couldn't remember if he told him a cappuccino or a latte. Given the state he was in, he might've even ordered a damned ice cream cone or something.

America was saying something to the girl behind the counter while Romano debated if 'Alfredo' or 'hamburger-bastard' were acceptable names. He mused that anything related to food would probably just make the blonde hungry more than anything else.

And suddenly Romano felt the barista's eyes on him. Dammit! He hadn't been listening well enough to hear what Alfred had said. She smiled and asked what to write on the second cup. Romano managed to perk up, the Italian in him becoming attentive to the attractive young girl. (This would later be identified as the 'Grandpa Rome' gene)

"What was that, bella?" he asked with a grin.

"I was wondering what you'd like me to write on his drink cup," she repeated, a little embarrassed by the two handsome men in front of her.

Romano cast one more desperate look around the coffeehouse for an answer or a clue or something. Anything to get him out of the horrible situation he was stuck in. His eyes finally settled on a t-shirt of a little boy passing by.

"C-Captain America!" he blurt out and immediately regretted it.

The barista smiled and scribbled it down as America swooped down and captured Romano in the hug to end all hugs.

"That is the _coolest_ nickname ever!" he exclaimed. "Ha, ha, ha! I really am the Hero~!"

"Sh-Shut up and h-help me find a table…" The very embarrassed Italian shoved his way out of America's loving embrace. Not that he noticed how warm or happy it made him feel to have Alfred's arms wrapped around him so tightly. Or the tingly, excited feeling that came with it. Nope. Not at all.

"Seriously! It's perfect, Lovi!" the tall blonde took his hand and led him to a smaller table to wait. "Say it again for me!"

"I should have gone with 'Kissy Bear,'" came the sour reply.

"Aww…but _Lovino_~" America gave him the puppy eyes. "They were supposed to be our _special_ nicknames. We were supposed to use them wherever we went and—"

"Cram it, hamburger-bastard."

"Please?"

"I said—" Lovi made the mistake of looking directly into the path of the puppy eyes. "…Dammit. Alright, fine…_captainamerica_ ."

"What was that?" asked America, hand to his ear. "I couldn't quite hear that last part."

"I said –"

"Captain America!" called the barista.

"Ooh! That's my drink!" America happily jumped over to grab his coffee and sat down beside Romano once more.

The brunette felt his heart quicken (again, it had nothing to do with the tanned and toned arm draped around him). He realized that the next name called would be the nickname America came up with for him. The way he reacted before must have meant that he actually put some effort into it too. Romano was more than a little curious at what the blonde had chosen. After what felt like _hours_ to the Italian, the barista returned to the counter with another drink.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

Romano stared at her blankly. After hearing the laughter escape from America who was cuddli-_sitting_ next to him, he turned towards his boyfriend. Had he really chosen a fucking girl's name as his new nickname?!

"Primrose Everdeen?!" the barista called out again.

Romano begrudgingly pushed his hands off the table to stand up, but was stopped by America. The blonde practically leapt over the table with a heroic expression etched onto his face.

"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"

Everyone stared at the strange American in varying states of baffled beyond belief, as he valiantly strode over to the counter, grabbed his drink, and led his boyfriend out of the shop.

"Here's your drink, 'Mano."

"CHIGIIIIII!" was all the little tomato said.

* * *

A/N: Well, that's all for the first chapter! Poor Romano, I guess the odds weren't in his favor. Heh. Still deciding on what to pick out for the second chapter. Let me know how you liked it and I'll see you in chapter 2 :)

Here's the words I used:

**Italian**

Dolce – Sweet

Bastardo – Bastard

Amore – Love

Tesoro – Darling or Treasure

Bella – Beautiful

Chigi – Romano's verbal tic that he often says when frustrated or embarrassed


	2. The Last Time

**Coffeehouse Drabbles**

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia…but probably for the better.

Warnings: Drabbles (so very, very short! …Most of the time), Shounen Ai/male x male pairings, bad language courtesy of Lovi, and some OOCness (I'll do my best to avoid that though).

So glad you liked the fic so far! Your comments made my day and motivated me to get this chapter out sooner than planned. For those who didn't quite understand the ending of the last chapter (minor Hunger Games SPOILERS) Primrose Everdeen was the younger sister of the heroine, Katniss. When Primrose's name was selected for the Hunger Games, Katniss volunteered to take her place instead. (END SPOILERS) I think America was just looking for an excuse to say that quote….

This chapter was unfortunately based off an actual event that happened to me in real life, but without the room full of nothing but attractive men. Curse, you reality, curse you!

* * *

In the end, all Nations must fall. Even the cleverest, most powerful, influential, and large countries are doomed to become nothing but pages in the history books one day. No one knew this better than Romano, who could to this day vividly recall losing his Nonno, the Roman Empire, at a very young age. He knew this day would eventually come for him as well, he had just hoped it wasn't so soon….

Cold chills swept through his body and shivers shook his frame. He coughed weakly, half-expecting to see blood on his hand. His stomach turned violently at the thought. A fever raced through his body, flushing his face and clouding his mind. Even in that state, all he could think about was _him_.

It wasn't _fair_, not in any sense of the word. He had finally built up the courage to confess his feelings to America after centuries of keeping it buried in his heart. The Italian was expecting the American to be offended, confused, or angry even….but instead he found himself in the taller man's arms, telling him the words he'd only dreamed of – America loved him too.

Romano glanced across the table in efforts to see America's face one last time, but his unfocused eyes were only able to see two other blondes. He grimaced. Apparently, the frog bastard and that Canadia guy had met a similar fate as him. Both were lying face down on the oak table, weakly breathing and barely clinging to life. The brunette managed to wipe his eyes on his sleeve when he recalled they were about to legally become a family in just a few short weeks…

Another round of scrubbing his eyes with his sleeves as Romano recalled the night 7 months ago when America proposed to him. Sure, he had almost fallen off the damned boat in shock, but the deep look of love, longing, determination, and a host of other emotions Romano couldn't name in America's bright blue eyes had been worth it. It was at that moment, that Romano's life had felt complete. After centuries of loneliness, he was able to find the person he was destined for and promise to spend the rest of his life with him. That all seemed cruelly ironic now.

Just as ironic as the place the green-eyed boy found himself in now. Romano had always assumed he'd die in a war protecting his little brother, or an alley after a botched mafia dealing, a hospital room at his lover's side, or even the goddamned _moon_ before he expected to be breathing his last in a cozy little cottage near the ocean. The scenery mocked him – a set of fine china, candles burning with the scent of roses and vanilla, shelves lined with books of every size and shape…He hadn't gotten a chance to look them over, but now suspected each book contained chapters about poisons, torture, curses, and other fun Sunday reads. Nothing in the books could save him…where was America….?

Romano blinked with heavy eyelids and managed to focus on America, who appeared next to him. Unlike the other three in the room, America seemed fine. Better than fine; he was almost acting as if nothing was wrong. Like the world wasn't ending and his fiancé wasn't dying right in front of his beautiful blue eyes. Like—

"'Mano? Are you okay?" he asked, worry etched in his face.

The brunette tried to tell him to run and escape, but the words came out as a jumble of mismatched sounds.

Seeing his fiancé in such a state, America became more concerned and slowly lifted him into his arms. He whispered soothing words into the Italian's ear and promised him everything would be alright, he would find a way to fix this and make him feel better.

Romano felt himself being carried to a different room in America's strong arms. He tried to tell the taller Nation to leave him and save himself, but it was too late and Romano slipped into a cloud of darkness.

It only could have lasted a minute or two at most, because when he came to, he saw America speaking with England in an urgent tone. The bushy-eyebrowed man set down a dinner pot of something atrocious and glanced at Romano.

"What the bloody hell happened?!"

"I-I don't know! We were eating the soup you brought out and suddenly Lovi, Mattie, and Francis just collapsed on the table!"

"D-Did the frog spike the stew?! Dammit, this was my grandmum's famous recipe!"

"I don't think so…I've been trying to ask Lovi, but he can barely talk in this state!"

As the two Nations tried to piece together what heartless monster could have infiltrated the house and ruined dinner, Romano's stomach gave another violent turn.

"_This is the last time I try to impress my fucking in-laws…"_ he moaned.

* * *

A/N: Inspired by a previous event in my life. Had the physical manifestation of Romerica been present, I could have at least died on the spot in peace, but noooooo…I had finals the following week. Plus, I was in Canada's position…I should have known better than to trust the cook, but didn't want to break her self-esteem and deal with a drunk/crying/tantruming adult-child later. Maple, do I ever feel bad for that guy…

Sorry it was so short! The next chapter should be a little longer ~

**List-o-Words**

Nonno (It.) - Grandpa


	3. Adventures in Gardening

**Coffeehouse Drabbles**

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia…but probably for the better.

Warnings: Drabbles (so very, very short! ….Most of the time), Shounen Ai/male x male pairings, bad language courtesy of Lovi, and some OOCness (I'll do my best to avoid that though).

Sorry for scaring some of you guys in the last chapter! I had way too much fun making fun of England's cooking and Romano's food poisoning antics. Don't worry; they were all fine after the doctor was called in. The therapy following the incident was minimal and everyone made a full recovery.

This chapter came in bits while I was out gardening….or attempting to anyway. I tried to throw in something more lighthearted to make up for the crazy drama last time.

* * *

Relationships are a lot like the ocean. Much like the tide, one must give and take. Things can be rough at times, but often lead to peace and tranquility if you ride out the storm. Your significant other can be beautiful or frightening…sometimes both. And sometimes, you want to drown them in a tidal wave the size of their ego for pissing you the hell off…er, that is, drown them in your love. Yeah…that.

However today had nothing to do with the ocean. The boys were at Romano's house, where he was making a huge sacrifice for their relationship – allowing America to help him in the garden.

For what America lacked much in the horticulture department, he made up for in unbridled enthusiasm and eagerness to spend time with his boyfriend. He figured if gardening was something Romano liked to do, he would like it too. He was always excited to learn more about his adorable Italian. And really, gardening was basically playing around in the dirt and watering plants, right? He could do that.

Romano described him as a hyperactive puppy crossed with a kid with A.D.D. in Disneyworld.

As America frolicked among the roses giving them enough water to last them the rest of the season or two, Romano tried to yank the hose back to untangle it and possibly hide it from the Destroyer. He was willing to allow America to help him, but didn't anticipate being stuck doing this much damage control. Romano had just finished saving his violets from a similar watery death the roses were now facing.

"A-Alfred! Wait, dammit!" the Italian shouted, having found yanking the hose away from the man's superhuman grip to be near impossible.

"Yeah? What's up, Lovi?" replied the American, turning around. Unfortunately, he forgot that the hose was in his hand. Cue one soaked and very annoyed Italian. "W-Whoa! Sorry!"

"I-It's fine, bastard…" he spoke through gritted teeth. He loved him dearly, but holy crapola this guy couldn't plant a single seed (or water them) to save his life. "Okay, new plan…"

"Ooh! What's next? Do I get to transplant again?"

"_No_," Romano replied a little too quickly and America's face fell. Visions of the last attempt of transplanting salvia upside down, sideways, and even into the birdhouse (because it would be _so_ cool if the birds had a garden _inside_ their house) swam through his head. "I'm going to have you water the herbs this time."

America's blue eyes shone brightly and he reached for the hose again.

"Use this," the brunette added quickly, handing over a watering can. "Use one can's worth of water for each _patch_, not each _plant_."

"Okay, Romano! What are you going to do?"

"I'm going inside to change. I'll be out in a minute, but while I'm gone don't go anywhere _near_ my tomatoes," the Italian warned him sternly. "If you do, I will know, and I will suffocate you in your sleep."

He couldn't help it. He loved his tomatoes.

America watched him retreat to the house to find dry clothes and looked back at the herb garden. He remembered Romano saying he grew most of his spices, like oregano, parsley, and…and other spices that America couldn't recall, but knew from experience how tasty they were in his boyfriend's cooking. His mouth watered at the thought of food and before he knew it, his stomach was grumbling.

America pouted. He couldn't stop for lunch yet – Romano was counting on him! He had to do a hero-worthy job of watering the herbs! That would make Romano smile for sure! The Walking Garden Disaster grabbed the watering can left for him and diligently filled it with water. He walked back to the herbs (this time sticking to the path, Romano hadn't been too thrilled when he ran through the rosemary shrubs last time) and tilted the can. America made extra sure that he only watered one patch at a time. He even took the boring path back to get more water when it would have been way faster to jump the shrubs like hurdles again.

He brought the watering can over again, this time getting closer to the herbs to smell them. They smelled like spaghetti, lasagna, and ravioli all at once. His stomach growled again.

"If these _smell_ like Romano's cooking, I wonder if they _taste_ like it too?" America pondered. "He uses them all the time, so they must be good…"

He looked around for tags or labels to identify the spices, but had no luck. After a couple centuries of cooking and growing them, Romano didn't need labels to tell them apart. America wasn't that lucky.

"This kind of looks like oregano…" He grinned, shoving a handful of a mystery leaves into his mouth.

It _wasn't_ oregano.

* * *

Back inside, Romano pulled a dry shirt over his head and began to head back outside. He hadn't heard crashes or explosions since he went inside. This worried him greatly. He sent a silent prayer heavenward for his tomatoes safety.

As he returned to the garden, he spotted America shoving several cloves of garlic into his mouth. The blonde chewed them with a curious look before grabbing something else.

"Cazzo! What the hell are you doing, bastardo?!"

"Huh? Oh, hey, 'Mano!" he smiled, completely oblivious of the furious Italian's wrath being directed at him. "Wanna try some?"

"No, I don't want to try some half-grown oregano that hasn't even been cleaned or dried!"

"Aha! So, _this_ is oregano! I knew I'd find it eventually!" beamed the blonde, munching on another leaf.

Romano just sunk to his knees, defeated. If his garden wasn't being destroyed, it was being devoured. He just couldn't win. America noticed his distress and walked over, hunger forgotten.

"'Mano? Are you okay?"

"No, bastard. You reek of garlic."

"Oh, sorry," America gave him a silly smile, sitting down next to him. "I got hungry."

"I see that."

"A-Are you mad?"

"Did you touch my tomatoes?"

"No, you said not to…"

"Then I'll be fine."

And then it dawned on him. There was something America could do to help his garden without killing it first! And it involved eating! One of his favorite things! Romano congratulated himself on being a genius, while America, Serial Garden Killer watched his expressions change in delight.

"Okay, bastard, I got it. You can help me with the tomatoes after all," Romano grinned. Before America could blindly take off, he grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. "But your job is inside."

"Huh?"

* * *

America had really lucked out. Not only did Romano start making lunch for them both, but he got to help this time! He had cracked eggs one by one into the bowl as Romano asked, tossing the eggshells into another dish.

"Va bene, now put the eggshells in a paper bag," Romano instructed.

"Like this?"

"Yeah, now _very carefully_ crush them up," the Italian nodded from his position at the stove, making omelets. "Try not to spill them."

"Gotcha!" America's smile lit up the room as he got to work. Normally, Romano used a rolling pin or heavier pan to crush the eggshells, but he figured his boyfriend would be fine using his bare hands.

After the eggshells were thoroughly pummeled to oblivion, the two had lunch, and another compromise. Romano gave America ketchup for his omelet under the condition that the blonde would actually _enjoy_ his food, not shovel it into his mouth. This still confused America, who always enjoyed Romano's cooking regardless of the speed he ate it, but figured he'd eat slower if it made the other happy.

"So how do the eggshells help the tomatoes?" America asked between bites.

"Hmm?" Romano looked up from his wine (his reward for not strangling his boyfriend earlier) "Oh, I use them because of all the calcium they have."

Cue blank look from America.

"Most soil doesn't have a lot of calcium in it," the Italian explained. "If you add crushed up eggshells to the soil around the tomatoes, they're able to absorb the calcium and grow better."

"Oh, I get it!" America's blue eyes lit up. "So the more eggs you eat, the more you can add and the better your tomatoes are!"

"Eh, basically," agreed Romano (who would later regret those words). "You should have seen how many omelets, pasta scrambles, and fried eggs Feli and I had to eat when we first planted them."

"So the next time I visit you, I can bring more eggshells for your garden?" the taller of the two asked in excitement.

"Sure, knock yourself out, bastard."

Of course Romano had second thoughts about this the next time America visited him with a 200 pound bag filled with crushed eggshells, but that's another story for another time.

* * *

A/N: Not totally pleased with the way this chapter came out, but the more I practice, the better I get (hopefully). In case you're wondering, yes, adding eggshells to the soil surrounding your tomatoes can help them grow for all the reasons Romano mentioned above. Neat, huh?

Next chapter we get to learn about a certain someone's secret fetish. No better place to learn about it than a World Conference, right? :P

**List-o-Words**

Cazzo (It.) – Fuck

Bastardo (It.) – Bastard

Va bene (It.) - Okay


	4. Into That Sort of Thing

**Coffeehouse Drabbles**

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia…but probably for the better.

Warnings: Drabbles (so very, very short! ….Most of the time), Shounen Ai/male x male pairings, bad language courtesy of Lovi, and some OOCness (I'll do my best to avoid that though).

Meh…may end up re-writing the last chapter, due to my extreme pickiness and the lack of shirtless men that appeared. Don't worry, this chapter will have more of that. Shirtless men, that is.

* * *

It was a typical world meeting for all parties involved – Germany was droning on about political issues, America was ignoring him and finding twirling his pen much more interesting, Canada was dutifully scribbling notes beside him (the older of the North American brothers made a mental not to borrow them later), Italy was hiding something behind a book that smelled suspiciously like pasta, and his own big brother was fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

America agreed that it was a little stuffy in here, glancing at South Italy again. With the first two buttons of his shirt undone, his neck was visible. The Italian then leaned back in his chair, clearly not amused by Germany's attempts to make increased funding for international roadways sound fun and exciting. America's eyes were caught by the small chain of a gold necklace that had been under Romano's suit. It twinkled in the light and made the blond wonder what was on it that made it so special. He followed the small river of gold up from Romano's collarbone to his upper neck and became fascinated by it. His neck was just as tan as the rest of his sun-kissed body. It was strong but somehow graceful at the same time. He wondered what it would be like to touch it, nuzzle it, or kis— America gave himself a mental slap and pulled back to reality.

He looked around quickly to see if anyone noticed him blatantly _staring_ at the Southern half of Italy. Fortunately, everyone else was preoccupied listening to Germany or fighting off sleep. America felt the heat rise in his cheeks and tried to avoid looking back at Romano…and failed. Before he knew it, the American was gazing at the brunette who was busy hitting his brother to keep him from falling asleep on his shoulder. America's eyes traveled from Romano's shoulder and back to his neck. It looked so sleek and tender…the few times America had spoken to South Italy, he'd noticed his distinctive cologne…he wondered what his neck smelled like? Cologne? Body wash? …Pasta?

'_What the hell?_' America's internal voice screamed, pulling his eyes away again. '_That guy is like a magnet!_'

He began looking around the room nervously, eager for a distraction! Any distraction! He was almost tempted to start taking notes on whatever Germany kept going on about! Kilometers? Speed limits? Maybe not. America glanced at the other Nations present for the meeting and realized he didn't feel drawn to their necks…but why? What's going on? Was he possessed? Did France spike his drink? Had Russia infected them all with his creepiness?

Noticing his brother frantically looking around the room, Canada nudged him. He didn't understand why his older brother had such a hard time sitting still at meetings and paying attention. He'd probably end up having to lend America his notes…again.

America grinned sheepishly at his little bro. He tried to pay attention, he really did, but something about the Mediterranean country's neck kept distracting him. Ugh, he couldn't wait for this meeting to be over! The second it was, he swore to book it out of here and try to figure out what was driving him so crazy before the meeting tomorrow. He knew that Romano would be there too and he didn't think he could take another day of this.

He debated asking Romania, but recalled the last time he asked him about necks and vampires, he ended up getting smacked and lectured by Romania about "rude stereotypes" or something. As he decided against it, a new worry occurred to him…

'Holy crap…Am I turning into a vampire?!'

The blond's figety-ness reached new levels of annoying as he went over the 'horrifying' similarities and Canada had to nudge him again.

"What's your problem, Al?" he whispered.

"Mattie…" he responded, in a very serious tone. "…I think I might be turning into a vampire."

Canada sighed and went back to doing his best to ignore America's antics, which says a lot (the most ignored country was dismissing the least ignored country). It was going to be a long meeting…

* * *

That night, America had no plan for what he was going to do tomorrow. His brother had refused to go shopping with him to find a blindfold or draw eyeballs on a fake pair of glasses so he wouldn't have to see anything. To ease his mind, he dragged Canada to go swimming at the hotel pool with him. The poor guy barely had enough time to grab some towels and change before his half-naked brother pulled him down the hallway, singing something about the beach at the top of his lungs. Sometimes it was hard to tell which one was the older brother…

They arrived and saw North Italy and Germany there, but no South Italy. America sighed in relief and headed over to the hot tub while Canada scared the bejeezus out of the others by 'appearing out of nowhere' when he greeted them politely. Prussia (who was underwater when they first arrived) managed to return the greeting, recognizing Canada by his trademark maple leaf on his swimtrunks.

America on the other hand, ran over to the hot tub and jumped right in (walking slowly = boring and not American) barely noticing someone else in there. He leaned against the edge of the hot tub after his cannonball splashed everyone in a 20 foot radius and noticed the other occupant for the first time.

"What the fuck, asshole?" Romano growled. "I came here to get _away_ from idiots, not get attacked by one!"

America tried to apologize, but his words caught in his throat when he got a better look at Romano. With the hot tub's extra heat, the Italian's tan skin had a bit of a flush to it that ran from his lean upper body to his…ne…ck…

This caused the blond to spaz and immediately flee with a quick apology. South Italy stared in disbelief. America was nuts! Even more so than he initially thought. But with that thought, something inside Romano felt a little guilty for reasons he tried to ignore. Why should he feel bad? That crazy American bastard was the one who nearly drowned him! It wasn't _his_ fault…right?

* * *

The next morning, America wanted nothing more that to eat his breakfast at the hotel quickly, so he could go buy a pair of sunglasses before the meeting and claim he lost his pair of glasses…not that he'd ever lose Texas on purpose, but he was getting more and more desperate as the meeting got closer. He turned down the hallway leading to the breakfast area set up in the lobby. Plenty of time to eat and grab some sunglasses! Maybe he'd snag a couple extra donuts for the road too.

"O-Oi, hamburger bastard!" Alfred was greeted by a half-hearted snarl.

"Oh, hey, Romano!" he smiled brightly. "What's up?

_Don't look at his neck, don't look at his neck, don't look at his neck, don't look at his neck…_

"Don't 'Oh, hey' me!" he replied sourly, hand on his hip.

"Uh, sorry 'bout that?"

_Don't look at his neck, don't look at his neck, don't look at his neck, don't look at his neck…_

"L-Look, I don't know what your problem is…" the brunette glanced away, blushing slightly, but frown never leaving his face. "But…cheh…Look, if I did something last night to…make you more of a spaz than you already are o-or something…I-I'm sorry, bastard."

"Huh? What are you talking about? You don't need to apologize Ro…mano…" America made the mistake of blinking at his surprise and looking at the half nation directly.

During his embarrassing apology, South Italy had scratched the back of his head and his hand still rested near his (you guessed it) exposed neck. America stared for a moment, then grabbed Romano by the shoulders tightly.

"Romano!" he warned him with a seriousness that even surprised himself.

"W-What?!" the smaller nation was now getting more than a little freaked out. He had no clue why the superpower in front of him was gripping him for dear life. Especially after he had bothered to apologize for something that still baffled him.

"Listen, something is happening to me and you need to stay away for your own safety!" America's blue eyes were intense, which made the other nation panic more.

"But I didn't do anything! What the hell's going on?!" Romano exclaimed, slightly wincing at the tight hold he was trapped in. "I-I have relatives in Brooklyn!"

Romano squirmed to get away from the freak in front of him and America caught sight of his neck arching this way and that. A new wave of what he dubbed to be his 'vamp instincts' kicked in, so he closed his eyes tightly.

"Neither of us can control what's going on, so I'll leave to keep you safe!" he told the mildly concerned half-nation and sprinted off, leaving South Italy standing there, amazed he survived the whole ordeal.

The hotel wasn't far from the world meeting center, where America had headed to while blinded by his vampire instincts controlling his brain. Sunglasses forgotten in favor of his grumbling stomach, he headed to the breakroom to see if there was any food set up early.

He opened the door and caught his former caretakers on the couch, a little too close for comfort. Now, he could have just left the way he came, without a word, but Lincoln's beard, he was hungry. Life was hard for a young vampire, so he expressed his disapproval for their actions in the most sophisticated and mature way possible – complaining loudly.

"I thought this was the _break_room, not the make-out room!"

This caused France to chuckle and England to jump a good 8 feet into the air.

"America! What the bloody hell are you doing here so early?!" he exclaimed. "A-And we weren't doing anything at all!"

"You have drool on your face where you were eating France's fingers."

"I-I wasn't eating France's fingers!" A flustered England insisted, immediately wiping off the dribble.

"That's right, Amerique!" smirked France, sliding an arm over England's shoulders. "He was _sucking_ on my fingers, not eating them."

"Either way it's gross…" America said, that feeling of catching your parents doing something intimate never leaving his now-queasy stomach.

"Arthur can't help it!" the Frenchman laughed. "He has a fetish for hands and I happen to have gorgeous hands!"

"Wait…fetish?"

America cut France off as he started defining it for him. He had sworn himself an oath never to ask France to explain things to him after the disastrous episode of _Where Do Babies Come From_ – the unrated French version. Needless to say, his fragile little mind had been scarred and he still had nightmares.

"I know what it is, I just thought it only applied to clothes and dirty things!"

"Non, non, non…" France waved off his concerns. "Sometimes it takes the form of hands, feet, eyes, ears—"

"Or necks?!" America eagerly blurted out.

"Yes," chuckled the resident love expert. "Necks and collarbones are common too."

"Thanks, France!" the American happily clapped him on the back. "You're not so bad after all!"

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?!" he demanded, rubbing his shoulder a little where his brutish son of sorts had whacked him.

But America had already started running back to the hotel.

"What the bloody hell was that all about?" England asked in confusion as he watched his former colony tear through the halls.

"Amour…" France replied with a happy twinkle in his eyes.

* * *

America sprinted back to the dining room and tracked Romano down quickly. He rushed over to his table excitedly, interrupting his breakfast with Italy, Germany, and Prussia. The Northern half of Italy greeted him cheerfully, while Romano eyed him nervously (his earlier encounter with the American making him cautious).

"South Italy!" he all but hollered for the entire hotel to hear and proceeded to ramble about not having to worry about being a vampire anymore and isn't that great?

The entire table (and several around them) stared in confusion.

"What are you talking about?" Romano asked him to clarify.

"It's only a fetish, so you don't have to worry about—"

Romano's face went scarlet.

"What fetish?" Veneziano inquired.

Germany facepalmed while Prussia fell over laughing.

Before America could try to explain, South Italy stood up and pulled him aside by the sleeve.

"What's wrong, Romano?" the blue-eyed man asked in worry. He thought the Italian would be happier about the situation. He wasn't a vampire, so Romano wasn't in danger anymore! That was a good thing, wasn't it?

"Bastardo!" he hissed through clenched teeth. "I'm sick of you trying to publicly humiliate me, so we'll talk in private."

On the way to a deserted hallway, America's blue eyes saddened a bit. He didn't realize he had embarrassed Romano. Now he felt really bad.

"I'm really sorry, Romano. I wasn't trying to humiliate you or anything," apologized the blond. "I just wanted to tell you the news."

"What news?" the half nation asked, now that they were far enough away.

"W-Well, I'm not sure why, but lately, I uh…" America was now realizing how hard it was to explain. "I kept getting distracted by your neck. Especially at the meeting yesterday…"

"My…neck?" Romano touched his neck on impulse.

America felt his face heat up a little and nodded.

"I couldn't figure it out at first either. I…I kept wanting to look at it and touch it…" He admitted, surprised at how easy it was to keep talking to South Italy about something so embarrassing. "I thought I was going crazy!"

"You were already plenty crazy," Romano said, averting his eyes from America in an attempt to stop blushing.

"Maybe, because for awhile there I thought I was turning into a Vampire! But I would've been the cool kind, not the sparkly kind," he assured him with a smile.

Romano sweatdropped and told him to continue, not completely understanding. What kind of a vampire sparkled? Americans were so weird…

"I was really worried about it until today when France talked to me!"

The Italian doubted _any_ advice that pervert would give him was helpful, but let him continue.

"France explained that fetishes can be over normal things like hands or ears or necks," he smiled proudly. "So that means I'm normal, I just have a neck fetish!"

"That's not something to go around proclaiming happily like that," sighed Romano. "And why are you telling me all of this anyway?"

"Because your neck put me through all this!" he laughed.

"Fine…who else?"

"Uh…just you, actually."

"You must be mistaken…" the half nation had a hard time believing that out of a room of several dozen people, this superpower country only obsessed over _his_ neck.

"No," America insisted. "I even made a point of looking around the conference room yesterday for a distraction!"

"S-So…just my neck then?"

America nodded and caused the other nation to get even more flustered. Romano's emotions were going crazy, so he decided to flee. That was the safest route. He turned to run, but was stopped by the blond's hand on his shoulder. As, green eyes turned and met blue, America's hand slid to Romano's neck with his sudden movement backwards. The skin-on-skin contact seemed to run electricity through the two of them and they stopped everything.

"R-Romano…" was all America found himself able to say, as he gently began caressing South Italy's neck, making him shiver.

"Wait," Romano cut him off, by putting his hand over America's. "Just _my_ neck…?"

"Just yours."

The half nation brushed his hand off and walked in the opposite direction. For a moment, America stood there stunned and a little hurt until the brunette turned around.

"Are you coming or not, bastard?"

"Huh?"

"Let's go figure this out somewhere more private, like my room," South Italy suggested, trying to sound casual, but burning bright red from ear to ear.

America happily jogged to catch up to him, putting his hand over the other's shoulders. His fingers began fiddling with the collar of Romano's shirt unconsciously, causing the smaller nation to blush and shove his arm off.

"Save it until we get to the room," he ordered.

"Yes, sir!" America mock-saluted him as they both walked on.

Unbeknowst to the boys, they had been watched by a pair of very mysterious and suspicious potted plants.

"Kiku…" said a plant that sounded suspiciously like Hungary.

"Yes?" replied the plant that sounded a lot like Japan.

"…Get me that room number."

* * *

A/N: I had way too much fun writing this chapter. I tend to focus on picking on Romano more than I do America, so I like writing chapters that reverse the roles. Although sometimes America doesn't seem to realize the craziness of the situation he gets himself in…And of course, I had to throw Hungary and Japan in there too. It seemed only natural that they would be cleverly camouflaged the very second any pair of attractive guys hinted at crossing the "just friends" border. They may appear again, cameras in hand in a later chapter, we'll see.

**Translation**

Bastardo – "Bastard" (Italian)

Non – "No" (French)

Amour – "Love" (French)


	5. The Compass

**Coffeehouse Drabbles**

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia…but probably for the better.

Warnings: Drabbles (so very, very short! ….Most of the time), Shounen Ai/male x male pairings, bad language courtesy of Lovi, and some OOCness (I'll do my best to avoid that though).

Saw an adorable pic of the Bad Touch Trio (+ England) and their adorable little children/colonies on Zerochan. Had the inexplicable urge to write about Chibimano and Chibimerica. I regret nothing!

* * *

Our tale was set at some point in the early 1700s, where empires clashed and pirates owned the seas. Spain and England were doing their usual thing – aiming swords at each other's throats, claiming they owned the seas, expanding their empires, pissing off their neighbors… Nothing out of the ordinary. However today, England had managed to gain the upper hand.

One of his scouts had spotted a boy fall off Spain's ship during a fight and assumed it was a cabin boy. At first, he wrote the kid off as shark food, but then he saw him swim. The kid swam like his life depended on it (which it did) and made it to land faster than anyone twice his size should have. The scout mentioned this to England, asking if he was one of those mythical creatures his captain often went on about. England took the telescope offered to him to see. It wasn't a mythical creature. It wasn't a cabin boy. This was even better, this was Spain's treasure.

Not wasting another minute, England took a small landing party to the harbor while the rest of his crew kept the Spanish ship occupied. One brief skirmish involving a great deal of hitting, biting, kicking, and cussing later and England had captured the young Romano.

* * *

Romano was not thrilled about the recent developments.

He was currently locked in a small cabin with boarded windows, strange smells, sopping wet clothes, and no tomatoes. Although England hadn't bothered to secure the child (the older nation felt it was too cruel, the younger nation figured he didn't have any shackles in his size), it hadn't done anything to improve his mood. Romano had no interest in being a prisoner or a hostage or whatever. He had expressed this point quite loudly to England and his lime-sucking cronies, but they didn't listen to him. It wasn't until the blonde captain threatened to gag the little Italian, did Romano cease screaming at him.

After he was left alone and England had left with his minions to celebrate, Romano settled on staring out the window. He sadly watched Spain's ship get smaller and smaller as they sailed away. The young Nation felt his chest tighten with anxiety and fear, but tried not to let it get the best of him. Spain would come save him, he just had to.

* * *

After getting far enough away from the enemy ship, America was let out of his room to wander the ship again. It was rare for England to take him on boat rides, so he jumped at any chance to go. He always got to see the best things when they travelled by ship. Once he saw a guy with a bird that talked for him. Then there was the ghost ship fiasco. Everyone thought it looked like a regular shipwreck (which was impressive enough on its own), but the real show was watching England jump around like he had frogs in his pants, ranting and raving about the evil specters swarming around it. America still didn't know what a 'specter' was, but developed a habit of asking any bespectacled person he encountered if they were also evil. And another time, they went to a place called Mermaid's Cove. He didn't actually see any mermaids, but America was sure they were just there and taking a nap or something.

"Did y'hear about our haul?" one of the sailors (i.e. pirates) passing America asked his friend.

"Aye, ye bloody fool! I was in the landing party!" the other replied. "We stole Spain's treasure, we did!"

This caught America's attention.

"Nearly lost my bloody fingers to it, too!" he laughed. "This _treasure_ had better be worth it!"

"Treasure?" America asked them, eyes widening. "We have Spain's treasure?"

"Aye, lad! Down in the spare cabin," one nodded. "But don't you be—"

It was too late. America was off in a little blonde flash. Kid could move fast for someone who looked only four. He was far too excited by the prospect of seeing what kind of treasure England and Spain had been fighting over. England was always going on about how he and Spain had races to see who could get the most treasure. Or at least that's what America had gathered from it. Regardless, he had to see what kind of treasure Spain had been keeping. It must be extra-super-special if they put it in a cabin room and not in the storage area at the bottom of the ship.

America daydreamed about mountains of gold and diamonds as he bounded down the hall to his goal.

* * *

Romano was pissed at everyone by this point. He was pissed at England for taking him away from Spain. He was pissed at Spain for losing him in the first place. He was pissed at the ocean for trying to drown him. He was pissed at the group of pirates that chased him and threatened to toss him to the sharks when he started fighting back and biting hands. So when the colony of the bastard who kidnapped him showed up, he wasn't as pleasant as the spring breeze on a sunny afternoon.

"What do you want, bastard?!" he grumbled, glaring at the little blonde boy who just entered.

America was shocked. At first because the mountains of riches he was expecting ended up being a boy just a few years older than him. Then at the strange words he was using.

"Bass…tard?" repeated America. "What's that?"

"A bastard's a bastard!" Romano shot back. "What the hell do _you_ want?"

"I came to see Spain's treasure!" he smiled innocently. "I didn't expect it to be a person like me!"

"I-I'm not like you at all!"

"Huh?" the little blonde scrunched his face up, deep in thought. "You're a…girl, then?"

"I'm a _boy_, dammit! A _boy_!"

"My name's America," he beamed, sitting down next to Romano. "What's your name?"

"None of your damned business!" Romano scooted farther away. What was with this kid? Why was he being so nice to him? Weren't they enemies?

"Did you get lost?" America asked, blue eyes full of concern. "Is that why you're here?"

"I'm here because that eyebrows bastard dragged me!"

"Eyebrows…bastard…?" the boy repeated and giggled. "Oh, you mean England! Hehe, that sounds funny! Eyebrows bastard!"

Romano let himself relax a little bit. It didn't look like England's colony was going to hurt him. He almost sounded…worried about him. The brunette opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by his stomach grumbling. He blushed with embarrassment.

"Oh, no! Are you hungry?" America asked, standing up. "That's what my tummy always does when I'm hungry! Wait here and I'll bring you some snacks!"

"W-Wait," the Italian called out to stop him by the door. "…Romano…"

"Huh?"

"Myname'sRomano," the Italian felt his cheeks heat up again. America just smiled.

"Ok, Romano! Just wait right here and I'll be back with some food! What's your favorite?"

"Do…Do you have any tomatoes?"

* * *

Just like that, a bond was formed over lunch. America wasn't able to find any tomatoes, but found plenty of extra vegetables from the soup they had for lunch. The cooks were now well-acquainted with his large appetite and didn't think twice about giving him a big helping of leftovers. America thanked them and returned to his new friend.

When he got back, Romano stiffened again, but relaxed when he was given food. Neither boy was used to seeing other kids their own age (physically, anyway). Romano was handling it by trying to talk tough and not show the other how terrified he was at the fact that his caretaker was probably hundreds of miles away by now. America remained his usual ball of energy and pure cuteness. He had waited _forever_ to make a friend on one of these trips and the adults just never cut it. Romano was funny and nice and taught him silly new words that he'd never heard before. He was having the time of his life.

"So what happened to you, Romano?" America asked.

"What do you mean?"

"How did you end up here?"

The older boy just looked down and didn't say anything. America watched him for another moment and realized his hands were shaking. He was scared.

"It's okay!" the blonde jumped up and hugged his new friend. "I'll protect you, I promise!"

"Whaaa?" Romano asked, voice muffled by the glomper's shirt.

"You're my friend, so I'll protect you!" he vowed. "That's what friends do, right?"

"Right," Romano freed himself, a little surprised by the amount of force required.

"Yay! Yay! Romano's my friend!" America bounced around the room like someone had just given him a box load of candy.

"Why're you so happy, bastard?" the Italian asked. Usually people got cranky when they were around him.

"Because I've been waiting foreeeeeever to make a friend! And now we're friends and we'll be friends forever!" America beamed. "I wish I could draw a picture of us!"

Romano found some loose paper and drew him a picture with a piece of charcoal America must have grabbed by accident.

"Will this work?"

"Woooow!" the blonde beamed. "I didn't know you could do that with scones!"

'_Scones?' Must be some fancy English name for 'charcoal.'_

* * *

The two spent the afternoon chattering away. Romano had to admit, asides from the whole kidnapping thing, it was nice. The few times he had seen other kids around in Spain, they tried to avoid him. By the time he gathered up the courage to ask them to play, they refused, saying he was weird and they weren't supposed to talk to him. Romano had run the whole way home and ended up lying on Belgium's lap for the rest of the night. Even that didn't make him feel better, so he started avoiding the other kids in Spain's city. It wasn't worth it.

Romano was pulled out of his thoughts by America puffing out his cheeks to make a silly face. The brunette made one of his own and the two fell over laughing.

_America's way better than those stupid bastardos by Spain's house!_ Romano thought. He wished that America could come back with him, so he could show those brats what a real friend is supposed to be. Then they'd make pizza and he could show America the tomato garden and—

"I'm glad you're feeling better, Romano," a smile lit up on the little blonde angel's face. "You looked so sad before…"

"Yeah…It was scary before…" he admitted. "There was a lot of fighting and I fell out of Spain's ship."

"Oh, no!" America gasped. "What happened?"

"Stupid bookshelf tried to kill me and stupid Spain forgot to lock his windows, that bastard!"

"Did you get hurt?"

"No, I just fell into the water."

"That's scary!"

"I know how to swim, so I was fine!" Romano puffed out his chest. In reality he was terrified back then. He thought the sharks would devour him in one big bite and he'd never see Spain or Belgium or his tomatoes again. That motivated him to tap into his power as a Nation and haul ass to the shoreline.

"You can swim?" America asked in awe. "I can't even do that yet!"

"You can't swim and England let's you on his boat?" Romano asked in disbelief. America shrugged. Clearly there was something wrong with the way the limey bastard's brain worked. What if America fell off? Stupid eyebrows bastard… "Okay, I'll have to teach you how sometime."

"Really?!" America bounced up and down.

"Sure. Just don't…don't fall overboard until then, okay?"

"I'll do my best!"

Romano finished telling his new friend about his unwilling adventure after he got to the town. He had never been there before, so everything looked strange. He got lost quickly and got mad (i.e. scared) because he couldn't find Spain. Then England found him and brought him here (kicking and screaming the entire way).

America felt bad for his friend. Poor Romano was lost and separated from his caretaker. He didn't know what he would do if somebody took him away from England. He'd probably cry and be scared. Romano was being so brave! Even though he knew the boy was lost and scared, Romano was being brave for his friend, so he didn't get sad too. America wanted to make him feel better.

"Wait here, Romano!" he darted towards the door. "I have to go get something!"

"Where else am I supposed to go, idiot?" he asked the cloud of dust that formed where America took off. He supposed that he could actually leave now that America had unlocked the door from the hallway, but decided against it. With his luck, he'd probably run into England and have to walk the plank. He'd rather wait here and spend more time with America anyway.

"I'm back~!" the blonde announced, after only a few minutes had passed. "Taa-daa~! I got you a present!"

"What is it?" Romano asked as a small golden device with a sleek chain attached was thrust into his hands.

"It's a compass! It's my treasure!" America giggled. "I got it my first time on a boat! It helps people not get lost."

"I…I can't take this," Romano objected, his cheeks turning a rosy pink. "It, It's _your_ treasure, so…"

"Nope! I want you to have it!" his smile lit up the room. "That way you won't ever get lost again!"

Romano wasn't really used to that kind of kindness, but managed to accept it embarrassedly. It was a beautiful compass…it looked even fancier than the one Spain's navigator used. On the cover was a golden lion carving that reminded Romano of his Nonno's armor.

"I-I'll take this for now, and give it back when I don't get lost as much, 'kay?"

America just giggled.

* * *

Their fun was cut short when America was sent back to his room for a bit. It got worse when England entered the room and tried to get information out of the stubborn Italian and their tsundere personas clashed.

"I'm not telling you anything, you limey bastard!"

"What horrible language, you cheeky little brat! Is that how Spain's been raising you?"

"I hope he takes your sword and shaves off your ugly eyebrows, you jerk!"

"What the bloody hell is your problem? I've been nothing but civil to you this entire time, you prat!"

"Go walk the plank, eyebrows bastard!"

"I will not have some child try to order me around on my own bloody ship!"

"You're so dumb you don't even know that '_scones'_ are called '_charcoal_!'"

"H-How dare you!" England snarled, outraged. That was his grandmummy's recipe, dammit. "You need to learn some manners!"

"Waaaaah!" Romano recoiled. "D-Don't hit me you bastard!"

England hesitated. He really didn't want to hit a child, but if it was for discipline…well, he could recall a few times his bosses chose not to spare the rod and spoil the child when he misbehaved as a boy. It would be for the young nation's own good.

"England?" a small blonde head poked in the doorway.

That did it.

"England? What are you doing?" America asked, eyes welling with tears when he saw his caretaker's raised hand.

"I, I—"

"England, no! You can't!" the blonde quickly raced over and put himself between his boss and his friend. "You _can't_ hurt Romano! He's my best friend!"

England paused to think of when the hell that could have happened.

"S-So you can't hurt Romano! Or I…I…I…" tears spilled down America's pudgy little cheeks as he began crying.

England sighed and lowered his hand to address his colony. He took the boy into his arms and gave him a handkerchief to dry his tears.

_His best friend huh?_

He supposed the boy's never really had time to meet other children his age and the empire blamed himself for that. England had been so busy with foreign affairs lately, that even _he_ felt like he barely saw his charge anymore. The tiny nation started to calm down as England rubbed his back.

"It'll be fine, America. I'll let him be."

"R-Really?" the blonde sniffled. "You promise?"

"I promise," he nodded, then shot a glance at Romano. "A kid like him wouldn't know anything anyway."

"What'd you say, you bastard?!" Romano snarled, but was held back by America's iron-grip of a hug. England walked back out the door laughing, so America got to spend more time with his new friend.

* * *

When Spain reigned down hell upon England's ship to get Romano back, it was the Italian's turn to keep America safe. Because it was more than a little intimidating to see a cabin door kicked in by a very upset pirate who had his sword at the ready to cut down anyone foolish enough to stand between him and his adorable lackey.

"Romano~!" Spain's expression changed to a happier one, as he sheathed his sword and hugged the boy. "Gracias mis dios! You're alright!"

"Of course I am!" Romano exclaimed, punching his boss' shoulder with his tiny fist. "Now get off me, bastard!"

Spain leaned back into a crouch and noticed America holding onto Romano's other hand. He was standing partially behind his friend, watching the newcomer with interest. Was this guy a real _pirate_?

"Are you Roma's friend?" Spain asked him kindly.

"H-He's just a cabin boy," Romano interrupted. "Let's get out of here, already!"

"Eh? But what about your friend?"

"I'm England's colony and I'm gonna be really strong one day!" America puffed out his little chest. "I'm gonna have my own ship and Romano can go on it too, so England doesn't try to take him again!"

Spain couldn't help but laugh and fight the urge to hug the adorable child who had been keeping his little henchman company.

"Do you want to come with us, then?"

Romano panicked at this question while America just stood there confused.

"Um…I can't leave without asking England or he'd worry…"

"Yeah, we should leave before eyebrows bastard comes back!"

Spain sighed at the prospect of losing a second lovable little henchman, but smiled and told America that he can come visit them anytime he wanted to. America brightened and promised that once he got his boat he definitely would.

The Spaniard headed out first to secure an escape route and called for Romano to follow. Romano quickly turned to America and pulled out his compass.

"Here, you can have this back."

"You keep it," America said, slipping the chain over Romano's head. "The compass is my treasure, but so are you, Romano! You're my first best friend!"

America launched into another tight hug and told Romano he could be the navigator on his ship one day with that. Romano returned the hug, scrubbed at his eyes and thanked him before running off.

* * *

297 (ish) years later…

America sailed into the dock with his fully restored Brigantine and began excitedly yelling and waving loud enough for his navigator to hear from the nearby house.

"Romaaanooo~! I'm heeeeeere, Romaaaaaaanoooo~!"

"Stop shouting at me, idiot!" Romano yelled from his window. "I'll be there in a minute!"

The Italian finished slipping his shoes on, grabbed a familiar-looking antique compass off his dresser, and ran out the door.

* * *

A/N: Adorable Chibinations are Adorable. I still don't quite feel like I captured all of their cuteness well enough. I guess I'll just have to write another chapter about Chibimano and Chibimerica sometime. Oh darn.

I also notice these drabbles are getting longer and longer…Oops?

~Rajikka

**Translation**

Bastardo – "Bastard" (Italian)

Gracias mis dios – "Thank god" (Spanish)


	6. Ghosts of the Past

**Coffeehouse Drabbles**

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia…but probably for the better.

Warnings: Drabbles (so very, very short! …Most of the time), Shounen Ai/male x male pairings, bad language courtesy of Lovi, and some OOCness (I'll do my best to avoid that though).

Thanks for all your feedback on Chibimano and Chibimerica! They will definitely be returning in future chapters and possibly their own story when I get the chance, as not one or two chapters can contain all of their cuteness.

This chapter, the boys are back in their adult bodies. It may not make sense at first, but should by the time you reach the end.

* * *

Dozens of wispy human figures continued sprouting up around our hero. They swayed and whispered amongst themselves in high-pitched, terrifying voices. You could see right through them as if they weren't really there, but our hero knew they were. He could sense these creatures meant nothing but trouble. They probably appeared to suck the life out of him like a McDonald's shake. He tried to be brave, he tried to be strong, but _Washington's wig_ were those things creepy!

His only connection to the living world was his boyfriend, currently attached (i.e. clung to) his hand. America could practically feel Romano's heartbeat from the deathgrip he had on the Italian's hand. Or maybe it was his own heartbeat? He didn't know and when he tried to ask Romano, he received no answer.

Romano's eyes were closed and his face was surprisingly calm, as if he was in a deep trance. The blonde had never seen him as unresponsive as this. Even during the siestas he insisted on taking each day. When America had teased him earlier about the helmet he was wearing, the brunette smacked him and expressed his own opinion with a flurry of choice Italian words that needed no translation to get their meaning across.

Right now, he'd give anything for his boyfriend to snap out of it and glare, yell, or even attack him again.

The amount of ghosts circling around them increased. America felt a little nauseous as several even passed through him. They dressed in white robes and spoke in a language he didn't fully understand. What were they after?

America could feel his heart racing and desperately looked around for an escape. Unfortunately the very scenery around him was beginning to change. Old buildings and trees instantly sprung up around them, leaving the duo trapped with the spirits.

The blonde suddenly felt claustrophobic and decided he had to wake Romano up _now_. He'd take whatever punishment coming his way later. _Anything_ to get away from these freaky ghosts. But despite his best efforts, nothing America did was able to get Romano to open his eyes. He only stood there, seemingly unaware of the horrific scene around him.

Another ghost passed through the hero, sending a shiver up his back. America sneezed in response, then watched in fear as the eerie image of a child dressed in an apron turned around with a smile on her angelic face.

"Bless you!" she said.

That was the final straw and terror overtook America, who fainted on the spot.

Romano felt his boyfriend go limp and opened his eyes, managing to keep his concentration. He was in time to help guide America to the ground, laughing the entire way.

It was the first time he'd seen _anyone_, much less a _superpower_, be so afraid of Feliciano.

The Italian couldn't help but feel a brotherly sense of pride. He was looking forward to telling Feli all about this later. Romano also made a mental note to thank Japan for letting him try out his new virtual reality memory creation device.

* * *

A/N – Just to clear it up, Japan had asked Romano to help him try out his new invention that used virtual reality technology in a special room to recreate memories of the person using it. Romano was bored, so he agreed and America accompanied him so he wouldn't get scared. Tables were turned and America was the one who freaked out.

Romano had been focusing on the past, which is why Feliciano showed up as a kid (and was referred to as a "her" since America also fell for his cross-dressing uniform) and people were wearing white togas and speaking an older version of Italian that America didn't recognize, having learned modern Italian himself. The "strange helmet" Romano was wearing was the device that received and projected the memories, which also required him to focus and be less responsive to America panicking and suggesting that they GTFO.

Hope that helps a bit!

~Rajikka

**Translations**

None this time. Romano was too busy focusing on memory-creation to help boost your Italian Swear Words vocabulary.


	7. Airline Arguments

**Coffeehouse Drabbles**

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia…but probably for the better.

Warnings: Drabbles (so very, very short! …Most of the time), Shounen Ai/male x male pairings, bad language courtesy of Lovi, and some OOCness (I'll do my best to avoid that though).

Thanks for worrying about America last time. After guilt-tripping Romano into making him delicious food and giving him extra cuddles/kisses he was able to recover from his traumatic experience. He also thought it was almost worth it for the extra attention. Almost.

This time is Alternate Universe (AU) and has the boys in their adult forms. They are also normal humans for this.

* * *

"Whoa! I didn't think I was going to make it for a second there! This airport is _huge!_"

Although Lovino never particularly cared for flying before, he had never outright hated it. That is, until today.

"I better turn my phone off now before I forget and the flight attendant goes off on me. Last time that happened, I got lectured for half the flight! Can you believe that? Did you remember to shut yours off?"

He had finished up some business deals in the United States and was now taking a series of connected flights that would eventually get him and his brother back to Italy. Back to where McDonald's was a scarcity and the locals didn't sound like rambling idiots (the exception being his brother). It was supposed to be a peaceful afternoon flight, but nooooo, Feliciano had felt a brief moment of responsibility a few weeks before they had left Rome and asked to be in charge of ordering the plane tickets. Being swamped with paperwork and eager to get his babbling brother out of his office, Lovino agreed. Which lead to this mess. Feli had screwed the tickets up, so Lovino was stuck sitting next to this idiot for the next 2 ½ hours.

"…You don't talk much, do you, dude?"

"And you talk _too_ much," Lovino snapped back at the blonde, hoping he'd take the hint.

He didn't.

"Yeah, I get that a lot!" the blonde laughed. "My name's Alfred, what's yours?"

"None of your business."

"Huh. Sounds Norwegian."

"What?" Lovino asked, incredously. "That doesn't even make sense, bastardo."

Alfred shrugged, happy to get a response from his grumpy companion. Unlike the others in his field, Alfred loved all the traveling for his job. He got to see cool places and meet new people he never would have the chance to otherwise. The American glanced around him. The older man who had taken the aisle seat was already fast asleep, but the other guy by the window had gone back to staring out it, probably bored. Alfred decided to keep talking to him, so neither had to be bored the entire trip.

"So where're you from?"

Lovino sighed. This guy wouldn't get the message if he tattooed it to his forehead.

"I'll make this real easy for you, cretino. You leave me alone, and I won't ask my great-grandmother to curse you and your descendants when I get home."

"I didn't know you were from England!"

"Ma e pazzo?!" Lovino could feel a headache forming around his temples. "I'm from _Italy_, you moron!"

"That was my second guess," Alfred flashed a grin. "I'm from the States, myself."

"I don't care."

"Virginia, to be exact," nodded the blonde. "Beautiful place. Have you ever been to Virginia?"

"Si e bevuto il cervello?" the angry Italian groaned. It really wouldn't surprise him if the man _had_ swallowed his own brain, mistaking it for a Big Mac or something.

Alfred just continued smiling and talking enough for the both of them. He figured the brunette was either shy or afraid of flying. One time he sat by a lady who asked Alfred to keep talking to her, to help distract her from her fear of flying. She said that it helped keep her mind off things. Maybe his new friend wasn't used to airplanes either? Alfred retold the story to Lovino as the plane started rumbling and moving to take off. He felt bad when the Italian grumbled something under his breath about someone's mother and slumped forward to get as far away from the chatterbox as possible.

"Hey, buddy, you alright?" Alfred asked, voice full of concern.

"Never better," growled Lovino, batting the blonde's hand away.

"Maybe you'll feel better if you watched the flight attendant's safety talk?"

"I'd feel better if I jumped out of the plane."

"Emergency exits are located at the front, middle, and back of the plane," Alfred instructed in a strict, falsetto-y tone. "Be sure to look around to locate the nearest exit to you, keeping in mind it may be behind your seat."

Lovino felt the corners of his mouth curve upwards.

"However, the captain has turned on the seatbelts light, indicated by the flashing icon above you, making all chances of escape impossible," Alfred continued before resuming his normal voice. "I've been on a lot of flights."

"It shows," the brunette grinned, then turned his head towards the window. "I'm Lovino."

"Huh?" the American smiled. "It's kinda hard to hear you when you talk into the window."

"I _said_, I'm Lovino," he scowled, facing the other, slight blush on his cheeks. "That's my name, capisci?"

Alfred smiled and continued talking away.

* * *

Unlike his companion, Lovino was less willing to give up personal info about himself. All he was willing to admit was he had flown in from Italy to attend to some business with his brother. Now that it was done, they were flying back home. Alfred listened intently (surprising Lovino), a little bummed when his friend wouldn't tell him more. Eventually Alfred resumed talking enough for the both of them, and once Alfred gets going; you get his entire life story.

He told Lovino all about growing up in Viginia and his love of sports. Alfred tried out everything from basketball to football, eventually becoming a traveling soccer referee. As part of his job, he got to travel all around the U.S. to cover more games. He said a lot of his coworkers complain, but he loves it. Since he's not tied down by marriage, kids, or pets, he doesn't have to worry about all the travel. As long as he makes time each month to see his parents and little brother, life is good.

But life wasn't good for Lovino at the moment. He'd been trying to listen to Alfred's story, but the American kept saying a word that made him flinch every time – _soccer_. An argument over soccer vs. football erupted soon after.

"I don't get why you guys all call it football…"

"Simple," Lovino snorted. "FIFA. FédérationInternationale de _Football_ Association. It's in the fucking title."

"Yeah, but you don't even know why we call it 'soccer' here."

"Because Americans are idiots?"

"Actually the term 'soccer' was coined as slang for 'association' in England in the 1880's by a former captain named Charles Wreford-Brown," he beamed, nobody knew more about this game than him. "Soccer is how they differentiated between 'rugby' football and 'association' football. So, 'soccer' is actually a British term, not an American one."

Lovino knew there was a reason he wasn't fond of Brits and told Alfred it's no wonder people hate refs.

"Aww, that's mean," pouted Alfred. "I'm always really fair!"

This launched him into a speech about all the rules they placed on refs – no drinking the night before games, no hanging out with other referees prior to games (such as a bar or restaurant), and the worst part – he almost had to give up his facebook account.

"Really?" Lovino asked, curious.

"Yeah, one of my ref buddies posted a photo of himself hanging out at a party when he was off work and got into lots of trouble just because there was a can of beer in the background."

"Like in his hand?"

"Nope, somebody else had it, my friend wasn't even drinking." Alfred informed him. "Oh, hey, speaking of drinks…"

Alfred turned to the aisle just as the flight attendant came by, wheeling her cart of refreshments. Without a second thought, Alfred orders them both drinks and handed over a can to Lovi. The brunette took it, mumbling a small thank you, and took a sip. They slowly slipped back onto the soccer/football topic and Alfred realized at some point during their conversation, that maybe, just maybe, it would be nice to have someone waiting for him when he came back home from his travels.

"Hey, do you wanna grab a coffee when we land?"

"Why?"

"No reason," he smiled.

It was the only lie he'd ever told in his entire career.

* * *

A/N – This was based on conversation I had on a flight not too long ago. Nicest ref I ever met, even despite my lack of any real football/soccer knowledge. So, ref-dude, if you're reading this, I'm both embarrassed and disappointed that we didn't spend the entire flight discussing the finer points of Romerica.

~Rajikka

**Translations**

Bastardo = Bastard (Italian)

Idiota = Idiot (Italian)

Cretino = Cretin (Italian)

Ma e pazzo = What are you? Crazy? (Italian)

Si e bevuto il cervello? = Have you swallowed your brain? (Italian)

Capisci? = You understand? (Italian)

_Hopefully this makes up for the lack of fun foreign words in the last one?_


	8. Texting

**Coffeehouse Drabbles**

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia…but probably for the better.

Warnings: Drabbles (so very, very short! …Most of the time), Shounen Ai/male x male pairings, bad language courtesy of Lovi, and some OOCness (I'll do my best to avoid that though).

I didn't have much time to make a new chapter, so you get texting this time. I went back and forth on how to write this one (straight up dialog vs. dialog and character details). I also wanted to cry every time I intentionally used bad Engrish and spelling for America's texts.

* * *

oOo

* * *

_hey Mano! i just got something u should see! :)_

Can it wait? I'm in the middle of a meeting.

_but it's really important! ill send you a pic! _

(open picture message) That's a picture of your chest. You've always had that, idiota.

_oops! wrong one! ill try again! _

(open picture message) …And that's a picture of your foot. At least the last one was entertaining.

_no! no! it wont let me send it! its really good too! i got it from england! _

Better my mother-in-law than my father-in-law, I guess. I have no idea which one you inherited your crappy texting skills from, though.

_trust me dude! u want to come over right away! its super important! _

Really?

_yeah! make up any excuse you can to get out of that meeting! _

I don't think so.

_plz? u will regret it for the rest of your life if u don't come over to see it!_

I doubt it.

_but its Sherlock: season 3! :D_

I'll be right there!

_uh-oh im putting it into the dvd player…_

Bastardo! If you start without me I WILL SKIN YOU AND MAKE YOU INTO SHOES!

_Love u too babe ;)_

* * *

_oOo_

* * *

A/N – America is spreading his nerdiness to Roma! XD I figured if anyone had access to an early release of Sherlock season 3, it would be Iggy. Lucky bastard. America's texting was driving me crazy, with all the lowercase letters, annoying abbreviations, and lack of all things grammatically correct. It hurt to proof it and not correct it. It was so bad; I even gave extra commas to Romano's texts just to feel better.

~Rajikka

**Translations**

Idiota = Idiot (Italian)

Bastardo = Bastard (Italian)


	9. The Meeting

**Coffeehouse Drabbles**

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia…but probably for the better.

Warnings: Drabbles (so very, very short! …Most of the time), Shounen Ai/male x male pairings, bad language courtesy of Lovi, and some OOCness (I'll do my best to avoid that though).

I tried to imagine what would make meetings better and this is what came to mind first.

* * *

oOo

* * *

Italians have been perfecting civilization for so long that it looks effortless. Whether it be sunshine, fine cuisine, passion, or pasta, they had it down to a science. That's right, a pasta science. We'll go with that. A pasta science was responsible for each table at the world meeting room to have a selection of half a dozen different pastas (because "Ve~! Pasta makes everything better, fratello! Even those boring meetings!") and several bottles of rich wines (because "If I have to put up with inviting those idiots over here, I'll need a large can of mace or alcohol. Your choice."). The scenery was beautiful, the atmosphere was beautiful, and for the first time even the meeting room was beautiful. It was no surprise that a certain blonde superpower was starting to find one of his hosts beautiful as well.

America knew that he had always felt different around Romano. Warmer, somehow? Happier, maybe? He didn't get to spend much time with him, but whenever he was nearby America could feel his heart race with excitement and got the strangest urge to hug the southern counterpart of Italy and never let him go. Although he didn't know why he was feeling this way, it didn't lessen any of the sensations that went along with it.

It was a _long_ meeting to say the least.

Romano caught the blonde superpower staring at him on more than one occasion during the meeting. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. Bastardo! Why him? What did America want? Was he picking a fight?

Romano was starting to wish Veneziano consented for the mace over the wine now.

America watched Romano fidget with the cuffs on his sleeve and take another swig of wine. The Italian must have had a few glasses already; his face looked a little flushed. America was starting to see why Spain often called his former henchman a tomato, Roma's so cute!

…Wait? 'Roma?'

Since when was he giving him nicknames? He barely knew the guy!

He shook his head to clear it, but he lost his focus again when he noticed how smooth and elegant Romano made everything he did look. From twirling a pen, to adjusting his cufflinks, to pouring another glass of wine…he felt like he could watch him for hours and never get bored.

* * *

oOo

* * *

After the World Meeting in Italy, the Nations were invited to a beach outing (Veneziano's idea). Romano was annoyed he had to go too and wasted no time in splitting off from the others. He dove underwater to cool his head. The half-Nation noticed how warm his entire body felt, even without the wine's help.

America was worried when he noticed how long Romano was under the water. Even if he was a good swimmer, Roma had several glasses of wine at the meeting. He must be in danger!

He dashed in and quickly pulled the surprised half-nation out of the water to save him. Romano was confused, as he wasn't drowning, and was suddenly tightly pressed to the muscular blonde beside him.

"Romano!" The self-proclaimed hero called out as he carried him over to the beach, completely serious. "I need to give you CPR!"

"I'm still breathing, dumbass!" Romano shouted back. He was blushing at the situation and the close proximity to America wasn't helping.

America laid down the brunette in a swift motion and kissed/delivered CPR to him. In an instant, he saw fireworks. He saw every color brightly illuminated before him. They seemed to spark to life the moment his lips came into contact with Romano's. In hindsight, he wasn't sure if that was from the kiss or the fist that collided with his face as a very embarrassed Romano began chasing him around the rocks, screaming obscenities.

From a safer distance, Hungary and Japan snapped away with their military-grade cameras. Hungary sighed wistfully.

"Ah, young love…"

* * *

oOo

* * *

A/N – I'm going to be so disappointed when the next meeting I go to doesn't have pasta, wine, or Romerica to entertain me with, aren't I?

~Rajikka

**Translations**

Fratello = Brother (Italian)

Bastardo = Bastard (Italian)


	10. The Babysitter part 1

**Coffeehouse Drabbles**

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia…but probably for the better.

Warnings: Drabbles (so very, very short! …Most of the time), Shounen Ai/male x male pairings, bad language courtesy of Lovi, and some OOCness (I'll do my best to avoid that though).

This chapter will be considerably longer and have all the Nations appear as regular humans. Alfred is 16, Lovi is 6, Feli is 5, and Romulus is far too good-looking for a man his age. No romantic stuff here, just fun, fluffy babysitting adventures.

* * *

oOo

* * *

Romulus Vargas was in a predicament. Apparently, his youngest grandson had taken his German friend literally when he told him to jump as high as the roof on their trampoline. This ended in screaming, a very swollen leg, and many, many tears. It was nothing life-threatening, but Romulus expected to be at the doctor's for awhile.

He didn't want to bring Lovino, his oldest grandson, who hated hospitals (the place where he lost his parents) and would throw the temper tantrum to end all temper tantrums whenever he had to go in. And _that_ would make for a long day. Of course, they lived about twenty minutes away from the nearest hospital, so it would take a long time regardless. He'd have to ask somebody watch the boy while he took his brother to the Emergency Room.

Romulus had heard from his buddy Alric that the blonde teen down the road was shy, but reliable. From what he'd seen with Alric's two grandsons, he was good with kids too. Gilbert was especially fond of him.

"Now what was his name…?" Romulus mumbled, flipping through the phone book.

One phone call later and Romulus got a hold of the boy's mother. He asked her if her son could babysit Lovino at the last minute, as they had a slight medical emergency.

"_Oh! Perfect timing!_" the lady exclaimed. "_He just walked through the door. Hang on and I'll ask him for you, Romulus._"

The eldest Vargas made silly faces at his grandsons while muffled voices were heard on the other line. Feliciano wiped his tears and managed to smile a little. Lovino frowned. He didn't like this. Why was his Nonno calling up some stranger to come play with him? He still had his doubts about the supposed 'hospital trip.' Lovino wouldn't put it past Romulus to lie about it to him, so he could leave him behind again and take Feli to go have fun.

"_He said he'd love to!_" the chipper voice returned to the phone. "_What time do you need him?_"

"As soon as he can head over would be great."

"_I'll send him right over. Bye!_"

Romulus thanked her again and set the phone down with a smile. Lovino was not pleased.

* * *

oOo

* * *

"Lovino, this is Alfred," Romulus introduced the two boys, grateful the blonde had given his name upon arrival. He was having the hardest time remembering it for some reason. "He's going to play with you while I take Feli to the _Medico_."

"Hey, little dude," Alfred greeted him brightly. "Nice to meet'cha!

"Why can't I come too?" Lovino ignored the teenager and spoke to his Nonno, fully aware that he hated hospitals.

"Because last time you went, you ripped off a nice lady's wig, set the doctor's coat on fire, stole a wheelchair, terrorized an entire ward of patients, and needed to be drugged just to sit still, _mio carino_," Romulus explained sweetly.

Alfred bit his cheek to keep from laughing. The kid sounded hilarious.

After some more coaxing, Romulus was able to convince Lovino that he would bring him a present back if he was a good boy for Alfred. Another kiss on the forehead for Lovi, and the Roman picked up the whimpering Feliciano and loaded him into the car, so he wouldn't have to walk on his injured leg. Romulus gave Alfred a final wave from the car.

"Buona fortuna!"

"What's that mean?" Alfred called back with a wave.

"You are a good son!"

Alfred had a feeling that's not what it meant at all. He turned to ask Lovino and noticed the boy making eye-contact for the first time. The little Italian was a cute enough kid. His bright green eyes blinked up at him, small pout forming on his lips. Alfred fought the urge to hug him. He was glad his brother was away for the weekend, so he snagged his babysitting job. This was going to be easy!

"I hate you, bastardo."

"E-Excuse me?" Alfred thought he heard the kid wrong. Little kids don't talk like that, right?

"Just leave me alone!" Lovino snarled at him and stomped off.

* * *

oOo

* * *

Lovino wanted nothing to do with that weird, blonde jerk invading his home. He didn't know who he was and trusted him about as far as he could throw him. Lovino ran outside to the back porch and crawled underneath it. He wanted to hide in his tree fort, but Alfred might break the door down if he followed him and got mad. The blonde was freakishly huge, after all.

"Uh, buddy?"

"Go away, gorilla man!"

"Okay, but just so you know, I saw this huge spider headed your way," the American warned him, unfazed. "You should probably come out before it eats you."

"W-What?! You're lying!"

"I guess you could hold very still too…that might work," Alfred pretended to be deep in thought. "But whatever you do, don't move. Don't even blink. Blink and you're—"

"Outta my way, jerk! I'm coming out!"

Lovino decided he'd rather sulk inside the house after all. And sulk he did. For a solid half hour, Lovino ignored all efforts made by Alfred to play, watch TV, or raid the candy drawer (as if that idiot even knew where it was). Lovino remained rooted to his spot on the couch, pretending to be very interested in his picture books, glaring at Alfred whenever he got too close.

* * *

oOo

* * *

Romulus called home, saying it was taking longer than he thought; the ER's packed. He told Alfred where he could find some extra cash to order dinner. Romulus didn't want Alfred to have to cook, as Lovino's a picky eater (or rather a gourmet.) Alfred thanked him, hung up, and gave Lovino the message.

"Did he really say that, bastard?" the boy asked, trying to sound indifferent. He wasn't particularly thrilled to spend even _more_ time with the weirdo his stupid Nonno left him with…His Nonno _was_ coming back, right?

"Yup," Alfred nodded, noticing the worry behind Lovi's green eyes. He didn't want his little buddy to feel bad. Babysitting was supposed to be fun! "Hey, Lovino. Did anyone ever teach you about Magic Numbers?"

"What's that?" the Italian eyed him curiously.

Alfred introduced him to the magic number on his phone that provides him with pizza. Lovino was fascinated by the idea of making someone else cook a pizza the way you like it and then deliver it to you.

"So what do you want on the pizza?" Alfred asked, hand cupped over the receiver of the phone.

"Huh?"

"You're my buddy, you get to choose the pizza toppings," the blonde smiled.

"U-Um, tomatoes…and pepperoni?" he stammered. Lovino was amazed. He never got to choose the toppings before. He always had to get whatever his dumb Nonno or fratello wanted before. (Feli hates pepperoni, but Lovi loves it). Maybe this big blonde weirdo wasn't so bad after all...

They passed the time by scribbling in several coloring books (Alfred didn't even yell at him when Lovi colored outside the lines by mistake) until the pizza arrived. Lovino watched in awe as the delivery man handed Alfred the pizza in exchange for green paper. He must be an idiot! Why would anyone want to trade pizza for paper? Good thing Alfred was on _his_ side. Lovi was so proud of his babysitter outwitting the moron at the door that he even grabbed the plates and took them to the table.

"Hey, Lovi?"

"What?"

"Wanna eat in the tree fort?"

His eyes lit up.

* * *

oOo

* * *

After Alfred helped Lovino take everything to the tree fort, the Italian boy made him promise not to tell the other grown-ups about his special tree fort privileges. If word got out that Lovino was letting adults into his awesome tree fort, they'd all want to visit and bother him. Alfred raised his right hand (and slice of pizza), solemnly swearing to pepperoni that he would never tell another soul about it.

"But is it okay if I tell my brother about it?"

"Bastardo! You just promised you wouldn't tell!"

"Whoa, whoa! Okay, little dude!" Alfred laughed. "I just wanted to brag to him about your sweet tree fort. He's not gonna barge down your door to see it, he's cool!"

"…Well, okay," Lovino considered it. "I guess my fort _is_ pretty cool…"

"The coolest!" Alfred agreed.

After dinner, they started to watch a movie, but had a change of heart when a monster suddenly popped out of nowhere. They clutched each other for dear life and agreed it was too scary for the other and opted for channel surfing instead.

Not long after, Romulus called with an update. They were going to be another hour or two as they had to go to the pharmacy now. Alfred knew that was on the other side of town and said it was no problem.

"I gotta say, I'm amazed Lovi's not giving you a hard time!" Romulus said happily. He thought for sure Alfred would be running for the hills by now.

"No way, Lovino's being awesome!"

Lovino felt his face heat up slightly and took the phone from Alfred.

"Oi, you big jerk! Me and Alfred are having a way better time than you and Alfred has magic pizza numbers!" the boy yelled. "I hope I can stay here with Alfred forever instead of you, bastardo!"

Romulus sweatdropped as his adorable grandson angrily hung up on him.

"I'm happy they're getting along, but really, where did Lovi learn such language?" he sighed and accidently pinched his finger between two chairs. "Cazzo!" he hissed, sucking on his injured finger.

Back at the homestead, Alfred patted his charge on the head.

"Hey, I'm glad we're buds, but you really shouldn't talk to your grandpa like that, Lovino."

"Hmph, we're not 'buds' we're accomplices!"

"Accomplices" the blonde laughed. "In what? Should I be worried?"

"Stupido…" Lovi huffed and went back to the TV.

* * *

oOo

* * *

Eventually channel surfing got boring, so Alfred offered to read Lovino a book after he got ready for bed. Lovi agreed and set off to put his pajamas on without incident. The boy found his babysitter waiting for him in his room. To his horror, Alfred had chosen one of Feliciano's girly princess stories.

"Bastardo!" Lovino complained. "I don't wanna hear _that_ book!"

"No way, little buddy. _Beauty and the Beast_ is totally awesome and I'll prove it," the American assured him.

Lovino decided to give it a chance, disappointed when the story started out the same way as always. Booooring.

"Belle was too afraid to leave her room for dinner because the Beast frightened her," Alfred read on. "And that's when her brave little brother, Lovino, showed up."

…Wait, what?

"He climbed through the window and landed in the middle of the ballroom, sword and shield in hand," Alfred tried not to grin. "He was going to save his big sister and no jerks or idiotas were going to stand in his way."

"Wait, bastard. You're reading it wrong," Lovino interrupted. "That never happened when Nonno read it."

"This is the remake, so it's even better."

"Oh."

Lovino listened eagerly, chipping in on occasion to Alfred's take on Beauty and the Beast.

"You are indeed a cute and brave little boy," Alfred said in the Beast's gravely voice. "But I will die if I don't save the town from that evil French douchebag who wants to marry your sister."

"You mean Gaston's French?!" Lovino shouted. That explained so much. Stupid French bastard. "I'll help you beat him up and save the town!"

"If you're word is as true as your sword, then draw it and help me end Gaston, the true Beast, forever!" Alfred growled. "We can save the town together!"

"Together!" Lovino cheered.

There was a brief interlude, where they acted out tracking the villain down with a magic mirror and beating the snot out of him. Pillows, stuffed animals, and blankets flew across the room, but in the end they were victorious. They had defeated Gaston and saved the entire town. Alfred noticed Lovino's eyes begin to droop, so he wrapped things up quickly.

"The beast thanked Lovino for all his help on their quest and they returned to the castle," Alfred 'read.' "Belle, Lovino's smokin' hot sister greeted them at the gates with the jar containing the Beast's enchanted rose…but it was a rose no more…it had turned into a tomato!"

Lovino managed to perk up a little, even in his sleepy state.

"Because of Lovino's brave actions, the cursed rose became a beautiful tomato and engulfed the group in light. As it faded, a very handsome hero stood where the Beast once did," Alfred said dramatically. "The Enchantress appeared once more and explained that the curse had been lifted by the power of true friendship."

Lovino smiled.

"The Beast was now a brave man named Alfred, who ended up marrying Belle without any gross kissing," the blonde laughed. "Then she and Lovino moved in and they were the coolest and most powerful family in town, where they went on many awesome adventures, ate lots of pepperoni pizza, and lived happily ever after. The end."

Lovino nodded off, so Alfred said goodnight and stood up to leave. When he felt a tug on his shirt, he turned around.

"Can…can you stay for just a little longer?" Lovino asked softly.

"Sure," Alfred smiled.

Lovi took his hand (just to make sure he stayed) and drifted off. The babysitter was torn about leaving or not while he waited for Romulus to get back. He decided to stay true to his promise and stayed at Lovino's bedside, squeezing his hand gently.

And that's where Rome found them a few hours later, fast asleep. Rome chuckled a little, seeing the soft smile on his irritable grandson's face, and decided that the unexpected six and a half hour trip to the doctor's office and three pharmacies had been worth it after all.

* * *

oOo

* * *

A/N – Why yes, I _did_ have America mistaken for Canada for a change. It worked out well in this case though. And the 'magic pizza numbers' thing is legit. I've used it many a time I've babysat kids of all sorts. Of course, it backfired on me once when the little girl I was watching was then convinced I was a witch, but that's another story…

And Feli's fine, although he'll be a little more cautious around trampolines in the future.

~Rajikka

**Translations**

Medico = Doctor (Italian)

Mio carino = My cute one (Italian)

Buona fortuna = Good luck (Italian)

Fratello = Brother (Italian)

Bastardo = Bastard (Italian)

Cazzo = Shit/Fuck/Damn (Italian)


	11. The Babysitter part 2

**Coffeehouse Drabbles**

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia…but probably for the better.

Warnings: Drabbles (so very, very short! …Most of the time), Shounen Ai/male x male pairings, bad language courtesy of Lovi, and some OOCness (I'll do my best to avoid that though).

Really happy most of you seemed to like the babysitting chapter last time! This will be similar, but reverse the roles – Lovi is 16, Alfred is 6, Matthew is 6, while Francis and Arthur are up to your imagination.

* * *

oOo

* * *

Lovino angrily kicked a rock as he stomped down the block to his destination. His idiot brother had agreed to babysit for Francis and Arthur, but just _had_ to get sick at the last minute. Then his idiot Nonno forced him to cover for Feli, barking some bullshit about family honor, pride, and some other choice values that Lovino chose to ignore. It wasn't fair.

The Italian cursed under his breath as he gave the tiny rock another irritated kick. He would be there soon. Lovino wasn't looking forward to it. What was his bastardo guardian thinking? He didn't know jack shit about kids! The brunette figured he'd pop in a movie and hope they'd fall asleep. He rang the doorbell and heard two distinct squeals coming from inside the house. Lovino flinched.

He couldn't believe he was missing _Game of Thrones_ for this.

* * *

oOo

* * *

"Alright, boys!" Francis called out. "I want to introduce you to someone!"

The boy with wavy blonde hair gathered without any resistance, but his rambunctious brother had to be held in his other father's restrictin—_loving_ arms, where he continued to squirm around excitedly. Matthew may have been a little hesitant about being left with a complete stranger (despite his papas promising he was a nice, young man who would want nothing more than to play with him and Kumajiro), but Alfred was stoked. New play toy!

"This is Lovino," the Frenchman gestured to him. "Lovino, this is Alfred and Matthew."

"Hi, Lovino!" the twins chorused in an angelic manner.

"Uh, hi."

"He's going to be looking after you two this evening. He loves to play!" Francis smiled at Matthew before making direct eye-contact with Alfred. "But that does not make him a play_thing_. If I hear you're misbehaving, I will be very disappointed in you."

"_How_ disappointed?" Alfred asked.

"Disappointed enough to disband the Avengers and seal off the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters in your room for an entire week."

The little blonde gasped at the mere thought of something so atrocious. The bushy-eyebrowed man holding him sighed and set him down.

"So you'd better behave."

Both twins nodded. Lovino didn't buy it for a second.

* * *

oOo

* * *

A large blue car pulled out of the driveway and Lovino was left with two bright-eyed children staring up at him expectedly.

"So…uh, do you want to watch a movie?"

"Kumajiro wants to play Hide and Seek."

"Ooooh! Yeah! Can we, Lovi?" Alfred bounced up and down. "Can we? Pleasepleasepleeeeease?"

"I guess so, but don't—"

"YAAAAAAAY!" the twins took off.

"—Don't call me Lovi," he finished, staring in vain at the two bobbing heads running off and ignoring him. "…Dammit."

Hide and Seek was a dumb kid's game. The majority of the time the children playing it were too stupid to even hide in a halfway decent place. They'd leave hands, feet, legs, and even heads exposed. And the giggling? If the little kids didn't give themselves away with their crappy hiding spot, they would whenever you got too close and they started tee-heeing. You'd have to be an idiot to be over the age of 10 and still somehow suck at this game.

Which is why Lovino was slightly concerned when he couldn't find the kids anywhere in the entire fucking house.

"Che cazzo…" he cursed under his breath, beginning to panic. "Where did those little brats go?"

He had been all around the two-story house, including the basement, where he found some weird scratches on the wall. The Italian had no idea would could make marks like that, but chose not to question the sort of thing Francis and Arthur were into. He double-checked their room, the toy room, and every room he was sure they were forbidden to enter. Still no kids.

"Ollie, Ollie, Oxenfree already, you brats!" he shouted in the living room, but the children remained hidden.

Lovino glanced at the phone. He was pretty sure their parents would be pissed if he called and told them he lost their kids. Asking them for help was out. He didn't want to think about what they'd do to him if they got home and he still hadn't found either boy. They'd probably chop him into a million pieces and cook him in some nasty English food. He shuddered. Not because the idea of being used as a secret ingredient scared him. He shuddered because they could use him as the secret ingredient and it would _still_ be better than anything Arthur ever cooked before.

"That's it! Food!" Lovino thwacked his fist to his palm.

_I can lure the brats out with food! They probably don't even know what good food is supposed to taste like if they've been eating that crappy English food! _

Very proud of himself, he strode off to the kitchen to see what he had to work with.

* * *

oOo

* * *

Lovino had managed to find all of the essentials to make spaghetti in his raid of the kitchen. He had just finished stirring the pot of homemade pasta sauce (because like hell he was going to use that store-bought shit) when he felt something latch onto his leg.

"Kumajiro is hungry," Matthew said simply, gazing upwards at the very startled Italian.

"Holy shit! Where'd you come from?!" Lovino felt his heart nearly jump out of his chest.

"Papa says that's a bad word."

"Oh…right. Sorry," the brunette sweatdropped. He was _not_ cut out for this kind of thing. "Who's Kumajiro? I thought your name was Matthew…"

Matthew nodded and looked back up with his big violet eyes.

"Kumajiro is my friend."

"You invited someone over?"

"Kumajiro's always lived here," Matthew corrected him. "He's my bear."

"Uh-_huh_. And do either you or Kuma-whatever know where your crazy brother is?" Lovino asked, putting the bowl of fresh spaghetti at the table.

"He's hiding in the tree out back," the blonde said, climbing into a chair to eat. Whatever his babysitter had made smelled really good. Almost as good as his Papa's cooking. His tummy rumbled.

Lovino thanked him and walked out the sliding door to get the trouble-maker. After nearly tripping over a large pawprint that Lovino could only assume was left by a neighborhood dog (a very _big_ dog by the looks of it), he made it to the tree.

"Alfreeeed!" he called up, shielding his eyes from the setting sun. "What in the world are you doing halfway up that tree?!"

"I was hiding!"

"Well, I found you! Get down, already!"

"I can't!" his voice slightly wavered.

"If you don't come down, I'll feed your share of dinner to Matthew's bear!"

"Kumajiro loves noodles!" Matthew called out.

"There, you hear that? Kumajiro's gonna eat your supper if you don't get down here!"

"B-But I can't!"

"Why the hell not?!" Lovino ignored Matthew's protest of 'you said a bad word.'

"'C-Cause I'm stuck!"

"What?" the babysitter facefaulted.

"I'm stuuuuuuuck!" wailed Alfred.

"I heard you the first time, idiot!" Lovino tried to calm him. "J-Just don't move around like that!"

"I-I'm scared, L-Loviiiii!" the boy flailed around.

"Quit your whining!" the Italian commanded. "I'm coming up there, don't move!"

Alfred remained rooted to the tree as Lovi climbed up to get him. Lovino was suddenly very glad that he wasn't afraid of heights. Even without that handicap, the ground was looking farther and farther away. How the little twerp made it up this high was beyond him. Once Alfred was secured, he clung tightly to Lovino, who climbed down slowly while carefully balancing the child. The descent only lasted about ten minutes but felt like ten hours to Lovino. When they had finally made it back on solid ground, Lovi was rewarded with a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks for saving my life, Lovi!" the little blonde hugged him, baby blue eyes shining bright.

"Welcome…" Lovino sighed, wiping off the slobber stain and watching the boy leap from his arms and take off in the direction of food, hollering at Mattie not to feed his food to Kumajiro. The resident adult followed at a slower pace. How did their parents put up with this every day? Kids were _exhausting_.

* * *

oOo

* * *

Lovino had won them over with his cooking, but made the mistake of giving Alfred and Matthew dessert. This caused a renewed sugar high. For awhile there, Lovino could have sworn that Alfred was literally bouncing off the walls (and the chairs, table, and light fixtures…). He had somehow managed to morph into a hyperglycemic blur of blonde and superhero cape. Matthew was even a little wound up, nearly tearing the sofa apart in a fit to find Kumajiro.

Never again would Lovino offer a child chocolate cake.

It took all his patience to convince the little boy that he was sure the bear would turn up again. Feliciano had imaginary friends as a kid (sometimes Lovino was convinced he still did) and always threw tantrums when he couldn't find them. Alfred didn't make things better by saying he saw Kumajiro run away from his perch atop the bookshelf. This caused Matthew to shriek at him and scale the bookshelf to make his brother fall off and land on his fat head. However, it was Arthur's (very expensive) tea cup that took a tumble, nearly shattering on the floor. Lovi thanked his Italian speed and reflexes for that save.

Eventually, the babysitter had to ask Alfred to find Kumajiro to keep him occupied. He had been hoping that the impossible task of searching for an imaginary friend would wear him out. In the meanwhile, Lovino sat at the table coloring with Matthew (who had calmed down after nearly breaking his father's tea set). As that little incident had caused huge tears to pour from Matthew's chubby cheeks, Lovino had allowed him to sit on his lap.

"You're good at art…" Matthew praised Lovino, who had drawn him a picture of a polar bear to color.

"I guess so…" shrugged the brunette.

At that point, Alfred decided to take a break from looking for Kumajiro (swearing that he _will_ find him for Lovi later) to see what his brother and babysitter were up to. Racing up and down the stairs was hard work, even if he did have his special Superman cape on.

"Lovi's a good artist…" Matthew informed him.

"Whooooa! You're right, Mattie!" Alfred beamed at Lovino, eyes twinkling. "You're awesome!"

"Squirt, you're crazy. It's a freaking polar bear."

"It looks _just_ like Kumajiro," a small smile formed on the seated blonde's lips.

"Yeah, it does!" Alfred agreed.

_Oh, great. Now they'll never shut up about the weird bear thing. Maybe it's some kind of toy since Alfred's seen it too…?_

"Only his teeth are sharper!" Alfred bared his own 'fangs' menacingly.

"They are not!"

"Are too!"

"Hey, Alfred, do you want me to draw you a picture?" Lovino quickly interrupted. The last thing he needed was a shouting match between two hyperactive kids.

"Can you draw me as Captain America, patriot of justice, defender of…um, America?" Alfred excitedly asked, striking a heroic pose.

"Uh…sure?" Lovino was confused, but did his best. He could vaguely remember the design from the movie he saw with Feliciano and their dumb friends. "…There. Done."

"Did you sign your name?!"

"Of course I did," Lovino quickly signed it with flourish.

Alfred took the paper in his trembling hands. He could feel his eyes well up, as he looked at Lovino, nearly speechless with emotion. Nearly.

"Y…You're the best _ever_, Lovi!" he exclaimed, glomping the teenager. "I'll keep it forever!"

"It's just a stupid drawing," A very lost Lovino patted his back.

"No, it's not!" Alfred insisted. "I _love_ it!"

* * *

oOo

* * *

After both pictures were colored, Lovino was finally able to get the twins to watch a movie and settle the hell down. He plopped down on the couch, expecting to be bored out of his mind with the remastered edition of _Beauty and the Beast_, when he felt the twins snuggle around him.

"What are you doing?"

"Shh, I love this part!"

"…I wish Kumajiro was here," Matthew sighed. "He loves to cuddle during movies…"

"So he _is_ a stuffed animal."

"He's my friend!"

"Riiiiiight."

"No! The wolves! Don't eat Belle's daddy!" Alfred shouted. "Eat Gaston instead! He's a buttface!"

Lovino sunk back into the couch, resigned to his position. He tried to get comfortable, as he doubted he'd be moving for awhile. Before the movie, each twin had changed into their pajamas and now brandished their soft blankies as well. Matthew wrapped up in his and leaned against Lovino's shoulder, sucking his thumb slightly. Alfred shared his star-spangled blanket with his new hero, happily snuggling his way under Lovino's arm. He hummed happily, looking up to smile brightly at his new friend.

Lovino couldn't help it. He succumbed to the snuggly boy's adorableness and smiled back. But just a _little_. And it definitely wouldn't happen again! He hated kids, dammit!

Zoning out throughout the film, Lovino felt his eyes rest on the dark hallway leading to the kitchen. He had turned the lights off in hopes that it would cause the boys to fall asleep. What he didn't expect was another set of eyes to stare back at him in the darkness. Lovino stiffened.

"K…Kumajiro…?" he whispered and then shook his head. He was being ridiculous. Sure enough, when he looked again, the glare of the 'eyes' off the TV screen glow was gone. It must have been a trick of the light. There was no way that polar bear plushie was real and stalking him from the hallway.

…Right?

They made it halfway through the movie when the twins fell asleep. Lovino knew this for sure when they stopped singing along with every song. Matthew was breathing softly to his right. Alfred was mumbling something about spaghetti and heroes in his sleep to his right. Lovino was trying to work out a way to escape his couch prison, but gave up when he felt Alfred squeeze his hand. Apparently, the little boy had fallen asleep holding his hand.

"Well, I guess I could stay like this for a _little_ longer…"

* * *

oOo

* * *

The credits began to roll when Francis and Arthur arrived home. The daddies began to call for the boys, causing Lovino to worry they'd wake the kids (especially Arthur, who sounded like he had a few too many and was having some trouble controlling the volume of his voice). Lovino responded in a hoarse whisper (i.e. adult Canada's normal voice) to get their attention.

The two found them and melted when they saw the scene. Francis wasted no time in whipping out his phone to snap a picture while Arthur giggled and cooed about how cute they were. Lovino closed his eyes in frustration. He swore he better get extra for this.

When the parents finally helped pry him free, the Italian quickly excused himself to use the bathroom. As he returned, he saw Alfred had woken up in Arthur's arms. The tiny blonde was upset and calling for Lovino. The brunette sweatdropped and walked over.

"I have to go home now, Alfred," he explained, slipping on his shoes.

"A-Are you really l-leaving?" Alfred's eyes filled with tears, surprising his babysitter with his reaction.

"Yeah, I have to go home and babysit my brother now."

Alfred took his sleeve.

"P-Promise you'll come back and play again someday?"

"Sure, squirt. I promise I'll come back again someday," Lovino grinned and ruffled Alfred's hair. Because dammit, he had to admit that even if Alfred was hell on wheels when given sugar, he was being pretty cute now.

Alfred beamed, wiping his tears.

Francis smiled from around the doorway, pulling out several extra bills from his wallet.

Arthur was caught up in the moment, crying alongside his son.

* * *

oOo

* * *

A/N: Soooo, Kumajiro. Beast or Plushie? You decide. And hopefully never encounter this dilemma in an actual babysitting adventure of your own.

The Babysitting saga is over for now, so next time we're back to standard Romerica…which is never a bad thing ;)

The next chapter will be done in honor of Halloween and then I'll finally get around to a few of your requested chapters!

~Rajikka

**Translations**

Nonno = Grandpa (Italian)

Bastardo = Bastard (Italian)

Idiota = Idiot (Italian)

Che cazzo = What the fuck (Italian)


End file.
